


i'm a mess and you're an angel from above

by jisunrise



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad, and stuff, im sorry this is not rlly that happy, just mood, the last 5 are barely there im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisunrise/pseuds/jisunrise
Summary: there's a balance.okay.almost there.jisung is teetering somewhere in between not okay and almost there.(i had to edit some typos, not an update lol)





	i'm a mess and you're an angel from above

there's a balance.   
okay.   
almost there.   
jisung is teetering somewhere in between not okay and almost there.   
some days, he's straight on not okay.   
others he's so close to okay that it hurts.   
most, however, he's teetering in between.   
there are days where he can't find the motivation, can't find the will to move his limbs.   
it's like his bones are made of lead, his bloodstream turned to copper. it hurts to breathe, there are thorns in his lungs. it hurts to cry, his tears are scalding his own skin with their acidity. those days, it takes almost all his effort to just flip over. he's numb, tired, dead inside.   
tired.   
he's tired, so, so tired.   
but sleeping for two days straight does nothing. it's not a kind of tired sleep can fix.   
there are days he tries his best but he can't. it's like there's cotton wrapped around his brain and stones on his eyelids, weighing him down. invisible ropes secure him where he is and the words play and replay in his brain, injecting poison into his blood and acid into his nerves.   
he feels dirty, blemished, not clean.   
but it's a kind of dirty showering can't fix.   
hour after hour, he rubs at his skin with the scalding water, leaving it bright red and scraped raw. the scalding tears mix with the scalding water, frustration bubbling up through his tight airways and leaving as long, anguishing screams that resonate through the tile of the bathroom.   
there are days jisung pretends he's okay. days he feels like maybe, he's normal.   
days he can laugh without guilt, days he can walk and smile without burdens, days he can eat without wanting to eject it all seconds later.   
on those days, jisung is close, so close to okay.   
there are days in between.   
where jisung is there, but he's not really.   
he's there, dragged into a restaurant or cafe. but he's not listening.   
the acid is pulsing in his veins, the poison is coursing through his body, the chemicals are clouding his eyes and numbing him.  
but he's there, forcing the smile that feels fake even through the effort.   
he's there, eating forkful after forkful of tasteless food that only burns more when it comes back up.   
he's there, talking with a dead voice and attempting to react at the stupid jokes.   
then, in the dead of the night, he'll lie awake as the voice comes back and the words return.   
worthless.   
no.   
helpless.   
no.   
nobody needs you.   
nobody wants you.   
nobody.   
yes.   
it's those nights he'll cry those acid tears into his pillow until the sun emerges and those mornings he can't move.   
because no okay day can go without turning into a bad day.   
and no good day can go without turning into an okay day.   
but no bad day can ever exactly turn into a good day.   
it's a cycle, jisung thinks, and he's got it all figured out.   
and then there are those days he can't breathe.   
he can't breathe.   
it starts off with the slight uneasiness, the anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach. the anxiety that slowly progresses.   
up, up, up, and slowly choking him.   
he's choking on air, trying to breathe and sob and not die all at the same time, but he's choking slowly, the darkness is choking him, the walls are closing in and he's dying.   
dying, dying, he's dying.   
he's not going to make it, he realizes, as he takes one choked breath after another.   
i'm not going to make it, he tells himself as his airways slowly open again and he greedily sucks in the oxygen from where it's flowing in between the thorns.   
but he does.   
he makes through another day.   
then jisung meets him.   
jisung meets lee minho.   
lee minho, who's normal.   
lee minho, who's perfect.   
lee minho, whose demons don't try to murder him everyday.   
he meets lee minho.   
shining eyes, perfectly swooped hair, unblemished tan skin, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, pierced ears, denim jacket and those damn ripped jeans.   
lee minho is beautiful.   
too beautiful.   
jisung feels gross.   
he smiles half-heartedly as his friends introduce him as the transfer student.   
his nails dig bleeding crescents into his palms as he hears him talk, beautiful, gentle voice.   
jisung wants to die even more.   
the crescents only get deeper, he can feel the nausea rising and swirling in his stomach, the cotton wrapping around his brain, the world going numb the longer he sits at the same table.   
jisung met lee minho.   
  
jisung doesn't show up at school because today, he's not okay.   
he can't make himself get up, no matter what.   
he's hollow, but he's being weighed down. there are scratches up and down the lengths of his arms, dried tear tracks on his cheeks, choking sobs leaving his lungs.   
the thorns are back.   
today. he's not okay.   
changbin texts him as soon as school is over, three messages that say he's coming over.   
changbin lets himself in.   
jisung curls in on himself.   
not okay, not okay.   
he can feel his walls collapsing as changbin walks through the door, his heart contracting as the blood tries to rush out to everywhere it's needed.   
"jisung."   
"not okay." he whispers through cracked lips, and changbin knows.   
he knows.   
he doesn't leave.   
he holds jisung all night.   
jisung doesn't help.   
in return, he thrashes, screaming and crying out of sheer frustration and hate until his voice is gone, cracked like the rest of him.   
shattering, shattering, he's shattering.   
he screams, screams, screams in changbin's arms.   
screams at the world for making him like this.   
screams at changbin for being there.   
screams at himself.   
because he's him.   
screams because he's like this.   
screams because lee minho is perfect.   
and then he doesn't.   
he falls limp in changbin's arms, slack of energy and pure will.   
changbin doesn't move all night.   
jisung doesn't move from his bed for four days.   
changbin doesn't either, staying by him the whole time.   
felix and hyunjin stay late every night, stroking his arms and telling him stories, pointless words that bring comfort.   
hyunjin tells him minho is worried.   
jisung scoffs.   
felix tells him minho is scared.   
jisung only cries harder.   
changbin holds him tighter.   
  
jisung goes back, five days after.   
there are bruising circles under his eyes and his face is gaunt and pale. the cross earring he never removes dangles limply from his ear and he moves from class to class.   
today, he's in between.   
minho fires questions left and right when jisung enters the cafeteria, and jisung can only turn the corner of his lips and shake his head, slumping into hyunjin, who holds him.   
changbin is sick.   
hyunjin does what changbin does.   
jisung deserves none of them.   
then, he's okay.   
he laughs.   
he smiles.   
he walks.   
he eats.   
he holds minho's hand.   
and then he crashes one week later.  
during the day.   
at lunch, hyunjin can tell something is wrong.   
when jisung slumps onto the lunch table with that look in his eyes and tears threatening to spill, hyunjin immediately walks him to the nurse.   
when the nurse claims nothing's wrong, hyunjin signs them both out and drives him to his house.   
jisung's house is out of the question.   
jisung blacks out.   
the room tilts once, twice, then darkness.   
he crashes right onto hyunjin's kitchen floor and hyunjin shrieks.   
he wakes up.   
three days later, but he wakes up.   
in a hospital bed,   
antiseptic, alcohol, needles, tubes, machines, wires, memories, too many memories.   
jisung thrashes.   
changbin holds him down.   
hyunjin holds his hand.   
felix cries.   
one week.   
two.   
three.   
he's back in his own bed.   
four.   
five.   
school.   
six.   
seven.   
jisung knows the cycle.   
it's okay, he thinks, this is normal, he thinks.   
it's not.   
he's not.   
jisung is a mess.   
and lee minho is perfect.   
one day, he's alone.   
and minho shows up.   
and jisung cracks.   
and minho is there.   
and jisung claws at his skin.   
but changbin is not there.   
hyunjin is not there.   
felix is not there.   
jisung tries to breathe, he tries.   
but it's one of those days.   
he's choking.   
flailing.   
dying, dying, he's dying again.   
and then warm arms are on his, that sweet voice is whispering in his ears.   
jisung makes it.   
but minho knows.   
and jisung wants to rip out his lungs and fall into a void of darkness.   
because lee minho is perfect.   
and jisung is a shattering, cracked mess.   
minho tells jisung he loves him.  
jisung shakes his head.   
minho tells jisung he wants nobody else.  
jisung scoffs.   
you cant be in love with me, he thinks, you can't. its not possible.   
i'm a mess, he thinks, and you're an angel from above.   
and then minho kisses him.   
and maybe,  
maybe,  
maybe,   
the nails stop raking his palms.   
i love you.   
no, you don't.   
i love you.   
you don't.   
i love you.   
maybe.   
maybe you do.   
so yes, jisung is teetering on the edge of not okay and almost there.   
but maybe, he thinks, maybe he's content where he is, for now.   
maybe, he thinks, maybe almost there just isn't for him.   
so he'll settle.   
he'll settle with minho's warm arms around his and his soft, breathing whispers when he helps jisung breathe.   
yeah, he's not okay.   
yeah, he's pretty messed up.   
yeah, he's gonna have bad days. weeks. months.   
but with minho, jisung is content in between not okay and almost there.

**Author's Note:**

> hello pplz if anybody even reads this lmao  
> ty for reading if u did i applaud u  
> leave kudos comments and opinions i love em all  
> check out my other fics if u want, im in the middle of a chat fic rn  
> love u all  
> byebye :) <3


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